


Brightening Perspectives

by angrywarrior69



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Tumblr Prompt, turbolift sex, what good are your co-workers if they can't help you in times of need?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 02:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12025929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrywarrior69/pseuds/angrywarrior69
Summary: Tumblr prompt from a *cough cough* anon: "Because I know you like the dirty dirty ;) Imagine that you're in the lift and Chakotay blindly rushes in, without seeing you, and adjusts his uniform around an obvious erection. You have no idea what possesses you, but you say, "I can help you with that, Commander."





	Brightening Perspectives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElizabethJaneway1158](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethJaneway1158/gifts).



Slumped against the wall of the 'lift, dejected and replaying the scene that occurred moments earlier in the mess hall, your brain drifts far away and the ugly beige and gray walls go in and out of focus. Infighting, suspicion, and witch-hunts playing out between the newly-merged Maquis and Starfleet crews are the least of what you want to concern yourself about right now. 

Home-sick and reminiscing, you hardly notice the turbolift stop and the doors swooshing open. The thing that did catch your attention however, was the sight of your new First Officer practically pummeling himself into the 'lift, slightly sweaty and stiff moving. 

_What floor are we on? _The indicator at the top of the door says deck one, completely having missed your stop, and remained inside long enough for someone else to call it.__

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“Deck three,” he impatiently clips in his typically soothing voice.

Before you can stand at attention, just after the doors close, he sighs and reaches down to his trousers to... adjust? _Oh, God. He has a boner._ You're already partway through the action and can't stop from the habit of protocol.

“Commander.” You stare straight ahead at the grayish-beige walls of the 'lift at a tense parade rest and hope he didn't notice how your voice wavered. Hope he doesn't notice the flush in your cheeks.

Dark brown eyes swing heavily in your direction as yours fix to a spot on the wall.

“Lieutenant.” The word is rushed and laced with something dangerous, something that involuntarily sends a wave of heat through your body.

You know he had to read your rank to address you by the amount of seconds it took for him to do so. That or all the blood in his brain is preoccupied elsewhere. Surmising that either way, he probably had to stare at your neck, you hope he didn't notice you swallowing the lump in your throat or the obvious nervousness in your eyes.

He moves face-front towards the door and assumes the same stance you've taken and doesn't seem concerned as to why you're in the 'lift at all. Your eyes quickly flicker down to his groin.

_Oh god, he is pitching a massive tent and it looks painful._

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_It's been so long. ___

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_This might be one of the few chances you get if you make it through these 70 years. ___

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_The rest of the crew isn't exactly looking so hot right now. ___

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_Fuck it. ___

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“Computer, halt 'lift,” you don't know what possess you. “Where is Captain Janeway?”

_~Captain Janeway is on the bridge.~ ___

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It's been such a short time but everyone sees it. Everyone sees how he looks at her, the effect she has on him. He came from deck one, you know where his _situation _is coming from.__

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He turns his head toward you and waits for you to answer his silent question.

“Commander-- Chakotay I-- I can help you with,” Finally you make eye-contact with him and slightly motion your eyes downward and back up at your next words, “With that.”

He stares at you for just a moment too long. Without saying anything you pounce, taking his shoulders and pushing him against the wall of the lift, kissing his neck and grinding into his hard-on. Groaning, he hesitantly brings his arms up to stop you but instead places his palms on your upper arms and begins to caress as you wrap your hands through his hair.

“We can't,” he chokes out as your hands slide down to the fastenings of his uniform jacket.

“We can,” One hand moves lower to his groin and cups. “and I can be very discreet.”

Pitching his head forward, hot breath skims your neck and his hands slide down to your hips.

“Please,” it's choked, almost a beg, and it's all you need to sink to your knees.

Undoing the hook and button of his uniform trousers with greater ease than expected from shaking hands, chest heaving in anticipation, you pull and lower his Starfleet-issue gray boxer briefs and gasp at the sight of him. Engorged, dripping, and oh-so large, your hands grasp his toned hips as you take a deep breath just in front of his cock before lapping at the wetness surrounding the extended tip. His hands move from where they were braced on the wall on either side of him to comb his fingers gently through your hair.

“Lieutenant,” he grits as his fingers lace closer to your scalp.

You don't let him finish talking, needing this for yourself almost as much as he seems to need it, the human contact, the touch, the pleasure. Taking half of him into your mouth, he moans and tightens his grip slightly on your head. Feeling him twitch inside you, you can't help but let out a hum of approval. He moans and you feel a rush of wetness in your underwear. Tongue dancing enthusiastically around him, his hips flex forward and he buries himself to the hilt before immediately drawing back. 

You glance up at him and note the sea of emotions spread on his face and he stares at you slack-jawed. He looks entranced, desperate, and... sorry? Briefly wondering if he's remorseful about thrusting into you without warning, you make the quick decision to not let his emotions kill the mood. Following his hips back toward the wall, you take his whole length into your mouth with ease, silently sending a message that you can handle it, that you want it, want him.

_He tastes so good._

__

__

I'm definitely going to need to change my underwear. __

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__

You follow his movement and use one hand to press his hip into the wall while the other slides down the apex of his thigh to cup his balls. He moans loud enough that if there was anyone walking by the 'lift right then, they would've heard. You always loved being able to make a man come undone like this. Glancing up again you see that his head is thrown back against the wall, warring emotions be damned, you've got him where you want him now.

He sucks in a deep breath and you continue to work him. Twirling and stroking, hand massaging his sac, you gradually increase the pace and hold his hip tighter to the wall as he begins to jerk. You move faster, add a little bit of frantic energy to it, and finally extricate the hand from his hip to help you out at his base. The gasp that spills from his lips falls in your ears and shoots down through your center where it becomes a lively throb.

His hands tighten in your hair and he holds you to him as he comes. He shouts some broken syllables that sound like “Kathryn” and you resist the urge to smile as you ride him down. Swallowing every last hot spurt, knowing you'd given him exactly what he wants, is tied to your own pleasure at the moment.

Once he seems sated, you release his softening cock and give it a parting kiss before tucking it back into his briefs and pulling the waist band of his trousers up and closed as you stand.

“Computer, resume--”

You don't get the last part of the order out before Chakotay is spinning you and has your back against the wall, one leg between your thighs. 

“Belay that,” he grunts out before his lips meet yours. 

One hand gently holds your jaw and the other trails downward. Kissing you passionately, his roaming hand slides over your breast, fondling it gently and finding your hardened peak through the thick uniform. You assumed that the great Maquis warrior would have a passion for rough love by the way he looked, the danger in his eye, his reputation for how he got things done. 

But now, feeling his delicate touch, you can tell he is anything but. Shuddering as his hand slides up over your pert nipple, you wonder of how passionate of a lover he might be. He catches your moan in his mouth and his hand slides down to rest on your hip as your arms snake up around his neck.

He breaks the kiss and looks at you with those damned bedroom eyes he's always shooting the Captain, “Do you want this?”

I wonder how many minutes we have until engineering hails us to ask what's wrong.

You look at him like with hungry eyes, “Yes.”

He slides down your torso, nuzzling against you as he undoes the fastens of your jacket. You throw the piece of red and black material at the far wall of the 'lift, needing it to be out of the way as soon as possible.

“I can smell you,” he says as he reaches your navel and travels closer to the soaked underwear beneath your trousers.

You snake your fingers into his jet-black hair as his hands lower to your waistband. In one, seemingly-practiced move, your pants and underwear are pooled around your ankles and the crisp, recycled air of the lift sends goosebumps all over your exposed skin. His hands rest on your thighs as he leans forward to inhale your scent. You suck in a sharp breath as his smoldering eyes gaze up at you.

_My God, I don't think I've ever seen anyone look at me like that. ___

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Breathing heavily, you step out of your pants and underwear with his assistance and part your thighs to him. He trails two fingers along your wet pubes and the light sensation makes you gasp.

“You're sure?” he growls into your abdomen as his hands push up your turtle neck and tank from the waist, stopping below your breasts. The warmth from his hands spreads throughout your body and you let out a content sigh.

The question seems ridiculous, given your current state of undress. Dark eyes overflowing with desire pin you to the wall of the 'lift, and you can't help but let out a hot puff of breath as another wave of arousal flares through your body.

“Yes. I'm sure.”

“Good,” A few more swift movements as he stands and your turtleneck, tank, and bra are falling behind him on the floor with a soft thud. 

His mouth latches onto your neck as his hands roam down your bare sides, up your abdomen, and finally stop to massage your breasts. You trail your hands up his back and moan in approval. Moving lower to suck on your collarbone, he begins to pinch and roll your nipples in his strong fingers and you will your body not to squirm. Throwing your head back and taking a deep breath, you lace your fingers through his short black hair and direct his hot mouth to your breast where he proceeds to suckle and nip expertly. Only switching to the other one when he hears a low moan.

“Please,” Gently, you motion his head to where it needs to be.

Letting out a shuddering breath you didn't notice he was holding, he moves downward, only allowing you to push him as fast as he wants to go, and makes a trail of hot kisses from sternum to navel before re-positioning to get ready.

_I can't believe this. I can't believe this. I can't believe this. ___

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Left hand on your hip, knees spread to lower himself to get a better angle at you, his right hand strokes from back to front in between your folds. Gasping and sighing at the pleasurable contact, you lean hard into the wall, trusting it to hold you up better than your own trembling legs.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, and you don't have the heart to tell him he's wrong so you throw your head back to prevent him seeing your eye-roll and let him continue.

Two fingers slowly make their way into your hot center and the initial tension and discomfort swiftly gives way to pleasure as your walls stretch around him.

_Oh fuck, it's been so long I might come from just this. ___

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Languid thrusts begin and soon his face is upon you, warm tongue working over your hardened bundle of nerves with such precision that your hands flail from his head to the wall to find purchase. The intense, sweet pleasure emanating from your core threatens to turn your legs to jelly. He works diligently and you become lost on an ethereal cloud of bliss. 

By the time he sets to a rhythm, the only sounds in the 'lift are the sticky squelching of his fingers, his mouth moving against your dripping heat, and your own labored breathing punctuated every so often with moans and whimpers that build in frequency as you near release. Once certain that you can still stand under your own power, your right hand finds the back of his skull to push him into you further.

“M-mooore,” you moan to the ceiling of the 'lift as he works you over.

You're fairly certain you feel a smile against you before he gives exactly what you so crudely demanded. The thrusts intensify until you're slightly bouncing with each one. His tongue seems to not be lacking any stamina as he surges the pressure against you with an increasingly unpredictable pattern of rolling and flicking. Writhing around through ragged breaths and breaking into a sweat you know you're only seconds away. He changes the angle of his fingers and you can feel your body and mind start to unravel.

_Oh- fuck-- this feels so-- he feels so-- oh-o- OH GOD YES! So close-- almost-- ___

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“G-ah, ha!” The high-pitched unintelligible noise is expelled from your empty lungs as tears swell in your eyes from the immense pleasure.

Gasping and crying out, you come harder than you thought possible. Crashing over the precipice and lost in extacy, your fingers blindly curl into his hair and you press him harder against you through waves and aftershock of pure golden satisfaction which he skillfully helps you ride down. Only after your walls are completely done clenching around his digits does he remove himself and you whimper slightly at the loss of contact. 

Drifting in a post-coital haze you barely register your leg being picked up slightly and then put back down. Eyes half-lidded, you look down to see Chakotay helping you step back into your pants and underwear. Brain still not functioning properly, you let him, and lull your head back against the wall with a satiated sigh.

The underwear slips on easy but the trousers require you to stand all the way, so you brace yourself on his shoulders and get your weight back on still-wiggling legs as he brings them up around your hips. The intimacy of his actions strikes you suddenly, and you can't help the throaty chuckle that fills the lift. He pulls a face and you can't tell if it's amusement, or if he's looking at you like you might be crazy, just before he quickly slides away for a second to grab your bra from the pile on the floor. 

_Tender care from the XO after a turbolift quickie was not on my itinerary today. ___

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He returns with the bra but doesn't say anything, but at least he's flashing one dimple now.

“Sorry,” you sigh and fumble to get the bra back on, “It's just-- thank you.”

“For what?” He holds out the tank and you take it, “If I recall correctly, you were the one who helped me out first. The least I could do is repay the favor.”

You chuckle again and take the proffered turtleneck, “I mean, really. I needed that. Thank you.”

You try to hide your blushing cheeks from your admission of loneliness by putting the turtleneck on, and are careful to not look at him as you do up the back of it. His strong hand gently lifts your chin as you begin to unceremoniously tuck the gray layers back into your trousers. The motion stops when you gauge the look on his face.

His dark eyes are deep, clear, and full of understanding and compassion.

_The Captain is ooone lucky woman. ___

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“Are you having regrets?”

_Oh. My. God. He does think I'm a crazy person. ___

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You seize his hand in both of yours and step forward, lacing fingers and giving him a little shake, “Not for a second,” you shoot him a devious smirk and see him visibly relax, “Now, hand me that jacket, Commander. I'm fairly certain we're both still on duty.”

He returns your gesture with a full-dimpled grin before slipping away to grab the last discarded piece of your uniform. Once it's on and there's not a hair out of place, you nod at each other and give the order to resume the turbolift. You spare each other one last glance, receiving yet another savory dimple and gifting a yet another coy smirk before facing front to watch him step off at deck three.

_70 years? Maybe it won't be so bad. ___

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You take a long, deep breath and exit the 'lift with a much brighter perspective than you entered with.


End file.
